My Laird's Castle

by Bess McBride

  “Don these shoes and the cloak.” Colin himself wore boots, but he took a heavier overcoat from the hook and put it over himself.

  I slipped into what essentially were clogs and draped the charcoal-gray hooded cloak around my dress. Colin pushed open the door, and we descended the stone steps to view a beautiful garden spread out over about half an acre. Soft lawns, as in the front of the house, trailed away into the forest, which itself climbed up into the hills. The rain had stopped for a moment, but the sky remained overcast.

  “Where is yer Montana then?” Colin asked as we strolled through the rain-drenched garden with its rows of brightly colored flowers, herbs and colorful plants I didn’t even recognize.

  I told him about Whitefish, Montana, and its proximity to Glacier National Park, the beauty of the Rocky Mountains so different from the Highlands and yet so similar. I told him about my life as a librarian, quiet and until now, fairly serene. I had already told him about trains the night before, and I related Whitefish’s connection as a stop on the former Great Northern Railway.

  We walked for a couple of hours, until a light rain encouraged us to return to the house.

  “Have Mrs. Agnew or Sarah draw ye a bath to warm yer bones. I wish to go down to the river to see if it remains flooded.”

  “No! Take me with you. I want to go.” I clutched his arm.

  “Ye canna, woman!” Colin pulled my hand from his coat and brought it to his lips again. “The weather is frightful, and I canna have ye taking chill. I concern myself wi yer health in our wet Scottish weather.” He shook his head as if he had reconsidered. “Nay. Up ye go. Warm yerself. I will see ye at supper.”

  I could do nothing but watch him disappear out the back door again, assuming he was going to make his way around to the front of the house and head for the river.

  I slipped out of the clogs and cloak and headed toward my room, wondering how to find Mrs. Agnew. But Mrs. Agnew, that worthy woman, seemed to know when she was needed. She appeared at my side as I began to climb the stairs.

  “Will ye be needing that bath now, mistress?”

  Was she psychic? Or just Celtic?

  “Yes, Mrs. Agnew. I would like to take a warm bath, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Not at all, mistress. Sarah will bring the water up presently. I have laid out a dress for supper this evening. I’ll bring a dish of tea up after ye’ve bathed.”

  I stopped on the stairs and turned to look at her.

  “Oh, Mrs. Agnew, you are a treasure,” I said with a smile.

  The housekeeper’s cheeks reddened. “Oh, awa wi ye!” Her Scots dialect thickened with embarrassment, and my smile widened.

  “You are,” I repeated, and I turned to climb the stairs, wondering what fabulous costume she had set out for me today.

  Chapter Six

  Bathing was an interesting adventure, if only climbing in and out of the steep-sided tub, which resembled something between an oversized cream pitcher and a barrel, albeit in a lovely shade of brass.

  Young Sarah made several trips with buckets of hot water, even after I thought she was done and I had climbed in. I quickly threw a linen cloth over my chest when she came in for what I hoped was the last time.

  “Mrs. Agnew says I’m to ask if ye need help washing yer hair,” she said with a small curtsey.

  I had thought to dip my hair in the now soapy water and hope for the best in the absence of clear water to rinse it with, but I improvised.

  “No, thank you, Sarah, but could you hand me the water pitcher there? I’ll just rinse with that.”

  She picked up the pitcher near the washbasin and handed it to me.

  “It is cold, mistress. Shall I pour it into yer water and put some of this hot water in it?”

  “Oh, sure, that would be great.” And so she did. I eyed the steaming water being poured into the pitcher and thought I’d better wait a bit for it to cool down before washing and rinsing my hair.

  “Do you wash your hair with this soap, or do you have a special shampoo?” I asked, holding up the bar of lavender soap.

  “Shampoo, mistress? I dinna ken what ye mean. Her ladyship washed her hair with the lavender soap. The servants have naethin so fine.”

  I bit my lip. “Too soon, I guess,” I murmured under my breath.

  “That’s okay,” I said to Sarah. “Thank you for everything. I can’t imagine how heavy those buckets of water must be.”

  Sarah blinked, and her cheeks, already red from exertion, flamed. She bobbed another curtsey.

  “Oh, it is naethin, mistress.” She set the bucket on the floor and left the room. I eyed the closed door for a moment, wondering how I was going to manage without crème rinse. The presence of the empty bucket suggested that Sarah would soon resume running up and down the stairs carrying my soapy water off to wherever it was water went—hopefully not to dishes. Unless she just planned to toss it out of the window.

  I sighed, contemplated a long life of adjustments and dunked my head under the water to wet my hair. Rubbing the soap into my hair, I could work up no suds, but it would have to do. I reached for the pitcher, forgetting that the water was still hot. More improvisation.

  I dunked my head again and emerged to ferment in the tub while the water cooled. The tub was such that I couldn’t straighten my legs and lay back, but I managed to pull my knees to my chest, and I waited for about ten minutes. It didn’t take long for the water in the pitcher to cool. Although Sarah had stoked the fire on one of her water trips, the castle walls seemed only too willing to share their chill.

  After what seemed like the most complicated bath I’d ever taken, I climbed out of the tub, wrapped myself in a lovely white linen cloth and dried off. Unwilling to begin the next round of dressing, I exchanged the wet linen for the warm tartan, and I lowered myself onto the settee in front of the fire to relax for just a bit.

  In hindsight, I should have combed my hair, for I fell asleep, and when I awoke, my hair, now dried, looked as wild as Colin’s.

  I had no idea what time it was when I awakened, but night had not yet fallen. I’m sure Mrs. Agnew would have alerted me if it was time to dress. How did people tell time here anyway?

  Was Colin back? I peeked out the window but could see nothing out of the slit. The castle didn’t seem to have conventional large windows, but only small openings, large enough for a bow and arrow.

  Someone tapped on my door.

  “Come in,” I said, turning away from the window.

  Colin opened the door and stepped in.

  I gasped, having assumed it was Mrs. Agnew, and I grabbed the slipping tartan and clutched it. I swung around, unsure what was showing, if anything.

  “Och! Ye arna dressed. Why ever did ye say to come in?” Colin barked.

  Fumbling with the tartan, I looked over my shoulder. He had shut the door and swung around so that he faced it.

  “Well, I thought it was Mrs. Agnew. You can turn around now. I’m decent.”

  I turned, and Colin looked over his shoulder.

  “Well, I never thought ye werna decent,” he said, his lips breaking into a smile.

  His lips! His wide, generous smile, visible for all the world to see. He had shaved his beard. My knees weakened as he turned to face me. A firm dimpled chin anchored what I had already thought of as a handsome face. He had tied his hair back, revealing long, dark sideburns that framed an angular face notable for wonderfully high cheekbones and snapping dark-blue eyes.

  “Oh, my word!” I said, staring at him.

  “Is my face so homely?” he asked, his smile fading.

  “Oh, no,” I said, keeping my distance. “Quite the contrary.”

  His blush stained his cheeks, and my heart thumped. They just didn’t make men like him in my time. No.

  “Ye’re teasing me, Mistress Pratt.”

  “No, I’m not. You’re a very handsome man, Lord Anderson. Looks, brains, a title. What’s not to like?”

  One would have thought I’d
had a glass of wine—or three—at my boldness, but I was caught up in admiration of something truly gorgeous, and I couldn’t hold my tongue.

  “Enough now, madam,” he said, running a hand across his chin and dropping his eyes to the floor for a moment. “I think ye must dress. It is almost time for supper.”

  “I wondered about that. How do you all tell time around here?”

  “By the position of the sun, the length of time to burn a candle, roosters that crow every day at six, and my pocket watch.” He pulled a watch out of a pocket in his waistcoat. I noticed for the first time that he had dressed in black silk trousers, a black velvet jacket and a pale-gray waistcoat. An intricately knotted cravat topped off his elegant look.

  I laughed. “A watch! Of course!”

  He looked around the room. “Ye dinna have a clock in this room, do ye? I shall have Mrs. Agnew bring one.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “How much time do I have before supper?”

  “Enough,” he said. “I see ye bathed. Yer curly hair is verra bonnie.”

  I laughed again, thrilled at the compliment, though I knew he had to be wrong. I patted the springy mass.

  “I forgot to comb it when I got out of the tub, so it’s about as wild as yours.”

  “Aye!” Colin said with a wide grin. Oh, gosh! Were those dimples in his cheeks as well? “We make a fine pair of tousle heads.”

  I tightened my clutch on the tartan, which threatened to slip.

  Colin noticed and dropped his eyes.

  “It isna proper for me to be in here. I will send Mrs. Agnew directly.”

  “Thank you. I’ll dress quickly. How was the river?”

  “Swollen,” replied Colin, pausing as he turned for the door. “Impassable. I will check again tomorrow. The captain and his men canna leave soon enough.”

  He shut the door behind him, and no sooner had I headed for the dressing table and the comb, than another tap on the door signaled the arrival of Mrs. Agnew.

  She bustled in, full of apologies for not coming sooner, mumbling under her breath about English soldiers.

  “I’m so sorry to put you through this trouble, Mrs. Agnew. I know you have better things to do than help me dress.”

  “Nay, mistress,” she said, helping me into the usual assortment of chemise, stays, petticoats and stockings. “His lairdship wants ye well cared for. I havena seen him so joyful for some time. Did ye see that he shaved off his beard? Unusual that for a Highland Scotsman. I never thought it suited him. He grew it when he returned from England. Was that yer influence?”

  “Me?” I asked, feeling guilty. Did Highlanders grow beards as a sign of masculinity? “Oh, I don’t think so. I hope not.”

  “Well, I had forgotten what a fair handsome man he was, so if it was yer idea, then I must thank ye. He looks years younger.”

  “How old is he?” I asked.

  “Och! Let me think. He were born in 1722, it was. I ken because I came as nanny to the young master and his sister. I didna become housekeeper until some years later when the auld laird brought in a tutor. The young mistress already had a governess by then.”

  The whole thing sounded very gothic to me—tutors, governesses and nannies. It was clear that Colin’s father had seen his children well cared for.

  I did my math. Colin was twenty-four, a year older than me. I wondered how old his wife had been when she died. I almost asked Mrs. Agnew about her, but hesitated. Every day when I dressed in Colin’s dead wife’s clothing, as I did now, I experienced a moment of discomfort, and I worried that I reminded him of her. Hadn’t Mrs. Agnew said I looked like her?

  My heart dropped. While I’d been thinking that Colin had been falling a little bit in love with me—as I had him—I realized that it was likely he had probably only seen his wife in me, given the dresses and the possible resemblance.

  Mrs. Agnew had me step into a lovely powder-blue silk skirt.

  “It is from France,” she said as she smoothed the skirt, almost lovingly. “A beautiful light color like the sky.”

  “It is beautiful,” I said, slightly depressed. She slipped the bodice over my arms and fastened it down the back. Delicate lace fell away from the three-quarter-length sleeves. The dress was a little more revealing than any Mrs. Agnew had offered before, and I swallowed hard as I looked down at my cleavage. Oh, no. I wasn’t going to be able to do this!

  But before I could protest, the worthy housekeeper slipped a beautiful length of lace around my shoulders and tucked it inside the bodice. I pushed it down even further.

  I slipped into my usual shoes, and Mrs. Agnew settled me in front of the dressing table to do my hair. She tsked and moaned as she dragged the comb through my hair, and I winced and did some moaning of my own.

  “Ouch!” I cried out on more than one occasion.

  “Whatever did ye do to yer hair, mistress?”

  “I washed it with the bar soap, discovered there was no crème rinse and then fell asleep before I could comb it out.”

  “Och! I have something put by to soften yer hair. I’ll bring it up the next time ye bathe.”

  “Oh, thank you!” I said.

  Meanwhile, she continued to pull the comb through the tangled mess before she mercifully bunched it up into a bun of some sort and stuck a few pins into it. The tears of pain dried, and I looked at the results in the mirror. Curls fell around my face and onto my shoulders, and I looked utterly feminine.

  I smiled, probably more in gratitude that she was finally done torturing me than with the results, and I stood up, wondering if my scalp was permanently scarred.

  “There ye be, mistress, as lovely as could be. I remember when the dress arrived. Her ladyship was tickled as could be. She had been sad for so long, it was wonderful to see her smile. His lairdship ordered several dresses for her as a surprise, ye ken.”

  I did ken, and it didn’t make me feel any better. I had to speak.

  “I really don’t think I should be wearing her clothing,” I said softly, smoothing the beautiful silk skirt. “Won’t it upset Lord Anderson?”

  “Oh, noooo,” she said. “I dinna think so. It was he who told me to fetch her clothes for yer use during yer visit.”

  I sighed heavily, wondering why Colin’s wife had “been sad for so long.” But I didn’t know how to ask, and the opportunity passed as Mrs. Agnew urged me toward the door.

  “Mrs. Renwick will no thank me for bringing ye late to supper.”

  I followed the housekeeper down the stairs, catching my breath as Colin waited for me in the foyer. He looked up at me, and I cringed, hoping his expression wouldn’t darken with sadness as he saw his wife’s dress.

  But instead, his smile widened, and my heart almost leapt up through the fichu and out of my chest. That smile, now brilliant in the absence of the beard, mesmerized me, and I almost lost my footing.

  He caught me just in time, and I smiled sheepishly.

  “Darn skirts,” I mumbled.

  “Aye!” he said softly. “But they are verra, verra bonnie on ye, Mistress Pratt.”

  I grinned as he dropped into a thicker burr than usual.

  “Thank ye verra much, my laird,” I said with shaking knees at my daring.

  Colin laughed and led me into the great room. Empty save for George, I wondered if we were dining on our own tonight. Colin pulled out my chair, and I sat, thankful the fichu was covering whatever it needed to as he bent near.

  Captain Jones arrived as soon as Colin seated himself, looking quite stunning in his red uniform. I had no idea how he managed to keep it clean, but it was immaculate.

  “Good evening, Mistress Pratt,” he said as he bowed to me. “Lord Anderson.”

  “Good evening, Captain Jones,” I said. Colin merely nodded. I didn’t blame him. The captain seemed to be a very affable man, but he was an uninvited guest, and Colin clearly resented having to afford him hospitality.

  “How was your day?” I asked.

  “Very well, thank you, madam, alb
eit somewhat long. There is little to do while we await the cessation of this foul weather. I have interrupted several squabbles amongst my men, written several dispatches, which I cannot yet send, and walked down to the river to see that it is indeed still impassable. Perhaps the rain will cease tomorrow, and we can be on our way.”

  “Aye,” Colin murmured. I put a hand over my mouth to stifle a grin. Captain Jones smiled but did not take offense.

  George and Sarah brought food in, and Colin poured wine.

  “Have you visited London yet, Mistress Pratt?”

  “Yes, I’ve been to London,” I replied before I realized what I’d said. Colin’s startled look reminded me that I was talking to a stranger. I didn’t know what would happen if I just jumped up and announced I had traveled in time, but I suspected it would be a problem. If not for me, then for Colin.

  “That is, yes, my ship docked in England, and I visited London before I came over here.” I hoped he wouldn’t ask me how I “came over here.”

  “Ah!” Captain Jones nodded. “Did you dock in Liverpool then?”

  I nodded. “Yes, Liverpool.”

  “And how did you find London? My home is in London,” he said.

  “Oh, beautiful,” I said. “Just beautiful.” Hardly articulate, but an adequate response, I thought.

  Captain Jones smiled.

  “Yes, I think so as well, though the air is thick with smoke from coal fires. I prefer the country myself. Did you have occasion to travel outside London to the countryside?”

  I was ready.

  “Oh, no, I just stayed in London.”

  “But you traveled from Liverpool to London, did you not? You saw some of the country then?”

  I nodded. “Yes, very lovely.”

  “Lord Anderson, I believe, is familiar with London, are you not?”

  Colin nodded.

  “Aye,” he said, offering nothing more.

  “You went to school in London?”

  “Aye,” he said, again monosyllabic.

  The captain turned to me with a rueful smile.

  “It seems as if Lord Anderson is not disposed to converse tonight, Mistress Pratt, so it must fall upon you and me to entertain ourselves.”